23. Zyrus

23

ZYRUS

Leaving my mate asleep in our bed was getting more difficult by the day. I would have expected it to become easier, a task improved by practice. But whenever I saw her lying there, all I wanted to do was wake her up, give her the pleasure she deserved, and remind her that she was mine.

The sight of her peaceful form, nestled in the sheets, tugged at something primal within me. Her scent lingered in the air, a constant reminder of our bond. I found myself pausing longer each morning, torn between duty and desire. My fingers itched to trace the curve of her shoulder, to feel the warmth of her skin. It took every ounce of willpower to turn away and face the day, knowing that my denya would be waiting for me when I returned.

All I wanted was her.

Instead, I was sitting in Ryklin's quarters with Drex and the other soulless Detyens, all of us contemplating the message Drex had displayed on the holo-projector.

"You never mentioned these messages before," said Kaelor. He and Jorin were no longer watching Alice. She'd woken up after two days in the medbay and insisted on getting on the first flight off Nebula Outpost. By now, she had to be halfway to the Oscavian Empire.

"The situation has changed." Drex nodded to Ryklin and me. The tension in the room thickened, pressing against my skin like an invisible weight.

"Because you've recovered your emotions," Jorin said, his voice flat. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, scrutinizing Drex. "Why does that concern you? Isn't that what you wanted?"

It was unsettling to hear Thalor, Jorin, and Kaelor speak now. The absence of inflection, of vitality, in their voices was stark and unmistakable. The flatness grated on my nerves, a constant reminder of what they'd lost. Until a couple of weeks ago, I hadn't noticed it.

Now, the contrast between their monotone and the rich emotions in my own voice was jarring. I found myself straining to detect even the slightest hint of feeling in their words, but there was nothing. Just empty shells of the Detyens they once were, their voices as lifeless as the cold metal walls surrounding us.

"It goes beyond anything we've ever heard of the soulless doing. And it may put all of us at risk." Ryklin paused for a moment before continuing. "I wonder if we should try contacting someone, letting them know what we've discovered—that the denya bond can heal the soulless."

I felt my own bond with Astrid pulse in my chest.

"If we've figured it out, surely they can," Drex said, his voice tinged with concern. "There are six of us and thousands of them."

"Do you think they know?" I asked, a chill running down my spine. It had been so long since I'd thought of the Legion, their presence a distant memory faded by time.

I hadn't bothered to wonder if they'd changed in the years since I'd arrived on Nebula Outpost. Now, that oversight felt like a grave mistake.

"We can ask this new guy, if we're so concerned." Ryklin's voice was firm. "One of our comrades needs help, and he's going to show up here soon. We help him. Whoever he is."

There was no argument. We'd all survived being cast out from the Legion. We couldn't leave another soldier adrift.